


wherever, whenever

by Nyoomdles



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Markus is a little shit, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), the connor & hank can be seen as familial or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyoomdles/pseuds/Nyoomdles
Summary: "You'll get dirt on the blankets."Markus holds out the plant.“Markus.Don’t.”--Or: Connor experiences a bout of depression. Markus does what he can to help.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	wherever, whenever

**Author's Note:**

> shenanigans inspired by a random tumblr post that i saw years ago and i unfortunately cannot find anymore!! :')
> 
> if anyone catches the ace attorney reference i'll give them a pat on the head

Connor wakes up to an empty bed. Markus had left for New Jericho about an hour ago, departing with soft goodbyes and gentle kisses like always. Connor pats Markus’ side of the bed absentmindedly, the sheets long since cooled. He rolls himself up in the blankets and onto Markus’ pillow, squeezing his eyes shut, mashing his face into the silk pillowcase.

He’s only just woken up and he feels exhausted.

There’s no reason he should be feeling like this. He was in stasis for a generous seven hours. None of his recent cases at the precinct have been particularly taxing. He and Markus were doing great. 

So why did he feel like shit?

He should get up. He’s going to be late for work. But the thought of getting up and ready for the day has Connor squirming further into the blankets cocooning him. There’s a heavy weight in his chest pinning him in place. He barely even moves when the cat joins him on the bed, giving her a few pats when she meows in his face. He should feed her. He should feed himself. 

He chooses to roll over instead.

Frustrated, Connor runs a halfhearted diagnostics check and an online search for good measure. His check comes back with nothing to report. Connor takes one look at the search results and ignores them.

 _Androids can’t get depressed,_ he thinks to himself despite his psychology programs screaming the contrary at him. Connor combs through his diagnostics and notices his thirium levels are two percentage points below the optimal amount. Does it affect anything? No. But it’s something.

 _Thirium. I just need thirium and I’ll feel better, and then I can go to work_ , Connor thinks, stubbornly pulling himself into a seated position. He swings his legs over the bed and stares at his bare feet dangling above the hardwood floor. The weight that was in his chest has migrated to his shoulders, and he hunches over at the invisible pressure. Ignoring the fatigue that seems to hang onto his every extremity, Connor shuffles into the kitchen with a blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. 

He feeds the cat. He downs some thirium and ignores how _bland_ it tastes. With that done, there’s nothing to do but change and head out. The thing is, Connor doesn’t feel better. The bed, the couch, even the _floor_ calls for him to lay down and rest. He doesn’t even need to go into stasis, he just wants to be horizontal and ignore the world for a bit. 

Connor glances at the front door, then the couch in the living room. Without his permission, his feet drag and carry his body to the couch where he collapses in a heap. He stares at his reflection in the television across from him. He looks the same, if a bit of a mess with his (Markus’) pajamas, the blanket, and his tangled hair. He turns his head to hide in the blankets as he calls Captain Fowler, even as his alerts yell at him to get up before he’s late for work.

Luckily Fowler is understanding, giving Connor the day off easily. Connor wonders if Hank will be the same as he calls him next. He hopes so, because he feels awfully fragile and he isn’t sure if he can stand Hank yelling at him.

“Yeah?” Hank grunts in lieu of a greeting. Despite everything, Hank’s consistency brings a small smile to Connor.

“Lieutenant. I wanted to let you know that I won’t be making it in today. I’m taking… a sick day.”

“A sick day? Do androids even get sick?” Hank asks suspiciously.

“I’m not sure,” Connor replies with a sigh, which he regrets because Hank picks up on it immediately. 

“You feeling alright, Connor?” Hank prods, gruff voice a touch softer than usual. Damn him, and damn his years of experience as a detective.

Connor doesn’t want to lie to Hank. But he also doesn’t want to worry him, so he settles with, “I’m fine,” though he feels far from it.

“Yeah, so that means you’re not fine,” Hank grumbles. Connor closes his eyes and tightens the blankets around him. “Listen, I’m not gonna make you talk or anything, but if you need someone to… y’know… listen. Well, I’m here. Shit, I don’t know. I’m bad at this.”

Connor laughs softly. “I appreciate it, Lieutenant. I think… I think I just need a day to rest. I’ll try to be back tomorrow.

“Take all the time you need,” Hank says, and Connor can nearly _hear_ him wave his hand dismissively. “Is Markus with you?” 

“No, he’s at work,” Connor replies, confused at the sudden change in subject. “Why?”

“Well, it helps if there’s someone to take care of you. Keep you company, y’know? Give him a call, I’m sure he’ll come running.” 

“I don’t want to bother him. I’ll be fine, Hank, really.” 

“Wouldn’t be a bother, you’re his boyfriend for chrissake,” Hank mumbles. “Suit yourself. If you need anything you know where to find me.”

“Yes Lieutenant.”

“Take care of yourself you hear?”

“Yes Lieutenant.”

“Yes Lieutenant,” Hank echoes in a mocking tone, though there’s no heat behind it. “See you, Con.” 

“Goodbye, Hank,” Connor says with a smile, suddenly realizing how grateful he is for his partner as he hangs up. 

He stews in his blankets for a bit, unsure of what to do at this point. Bit by bit the heaviness returns to his limbs and he lets out a deep sigh. The cat jumps up on the couch, sniffing curiously at her owner that _should_ be at work right now. She doesn’t seem to mind the change in protocol, curling up against his side with a purr. The ache in Connor’s chest eases just the slightest amount. 

To curb the guilt gnawing at his mind Connor pulls up the case he and Hank are currently working on, scrolling through old reports and checking for any updates. Normally he’d be happy with any distraction, but he can’t bring himself to focus. He watches words fly by on his HUD with reading a single one. Connor huffs, letting himself return to the present. At this point he’d already be bored. Now he just feels numb, empty. It’s a bit scary, but also a bit comforting. Markus did always say Connor thinks too much. Maybe it’s for the best, floating like this.

He wishes Markus were here. He’d know what to do. 

Connor sighs again and turns on the news. He doesn’t watch it at all.

\--

Markus is just wrapping up a meeting when he receives a call from Hank. He excuses himself quickly and ducks into his office, nerves already racing. The Lieutenant rarely calls, and everytime he does Markus’ anxiety kicks into high gear. Maybe it’s because Hank is such an important figure to Connor. Maybe it’s because of the risky nature of Connor’s work, and he always fears the worst when Hank calls during work hours. Maybe it’s just because Hank is an intimidating man.

Either way, Markus braces himself when he picks up, settling deeply into the chair at his desk.

“Lieutenant Anderson. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Markus says, trying and failing to turn off his meeting-with-politicians voice.

“Uh, yeah. Hey. Listen, I got a favor to ask you,” Hank says, never the type to beat around the bush. His awkwardness eases the tension in Markus’ shoulders. “It’s about Connor.”

“Connor? Is everything okay?” Markus asks, immediately shedding the air of professionalism.

“Yeah, well -- at least I think so. He called and told me he’s taking a sick day, which I think you and I both know is some bullshit.” 

Markus huffs out a laugh despite himself. “It’s true that androids don’t get sick. So what do you think it is?”

“Mental health day. He sounded pretty lifeless when he called, I’m not gonna lie. I keep telling the kid he’s gotta take a break every now and then, but… you know how he is. He told me you were at work and he didn’t want to bother you, but I figured things might be different if you knew what was really going on.”

Markus frowns, rubbing at the sudden ache in his thirium pump. His rarely used caretaker protocols immediately kick in, wanting to dote on his boyfriend on the other side of town. The thought of Connor sad and alone in their apartment makes Markus restless and itching to be with him. “You want me to check on him,” Markus says, finishing Hank’s train of thought.

“I’d do it myself but lord knows I’m shit out of sick days. Think you can do it?” 

Markus sighs, frustrated when he thinks of his upcoming meetings. “I want to be there for him, Lieutenant, but… I have many important meetings today. Meetings that are integral to our movement and had to be scheduled months ahead.” Markus mutters a silent string of curses. Why did the president of Russia have to be free to meet _today_ of all days?

Hank hums in understanding. “More important than Connor, though?” he asks anyway with a touch of caution. It’s both entirely fair and unfair. Hank seems to get it though, because he quickly backtracks. “Sorry, that’s not fair. I know you’re trying your best, kid.”

Hank’s words instantly make Markus miss Carl. “No, you’re right. I… I can try leaving work early. He shouldn’t be alone.” 

“Do what you can. I know he’ll appreciate it either way. I’ll get out of your hair now, I’m sure you’re probably busy,” Hank says. After a pause he mutters something else but it’s too muffled to be addressed to Markus. It sounds awfully similar to “stupid, he doesn’t even _have_ hair”.

Markus bites back a laugh. “Thanks for letting me know, Lieutenant. I’ll keep you updated.”

Hank grunts an affirmative. “Sounds good. Keep… doing what you’re doing. Connor’s lucky to have you.” 

The two exchange goodbyes, Hank’s words leave Markus feeling warm and all the more determined to go to Connor. 

All too soon Simon’s calling him to another meeting, which Markus begrudgingly goes to. It’s alright, he’ll be home soon enough.

\--

The apartment is dark and quiet when Markus makes it home. The TV in the living room is on, droning on softly. There’s a pile of blankets on the couch that isn’t usually there. It all clicks when Markus spots two bare feet sticking out from under them. It’s concerning how still Connor is.

Markus turns off the TV and turns on one of their lamps, turning down the brightness as low as it can go.

“Connor?” Markus calls out softly, crouching down near where Connor’s head should be. Probably. It’s hard to tell.

Markus gets a muffled grunt in reply. 

“Can you show your face sweetheart?” 

At first, there’s nothing. Then finally Connor shifts around until his eyes peek through an opening in the blankets. “You’re home early,” he says, watching Markus carefully.

“I got a call from Hank. He told me you weren’t feeling well.” Markus sits down properly, crossing his legs and resting his arms on the couch. He props his chin on his arms and gives Connor a gentle smile.

“I’m… fine. You didn’t need to leave work for me,” Connor murmurs.

“Do you not want me here?” Markus asks. He wants nothing more than to reach out and wrap Connor in a hug, blankets and all, but if Connor wants to be left alone he’d respect his wishes.

“No, I just…” Connor seems to struggle for a moment before hiding in the blankets again with a frustrated huff. “I didn’t want to bother you.” His voice is quiet and a bit strained.

“Connor…” Markus finally cracks and places a warm hand on Connor’s shoulder. “If you’re worried about being a burden, don’t. You’re never a burden, not to me.” 

When Connor says nothing, Markus sits back, unsure where to go from here. He knows words probably mean nothing at this point. He knows all too well how self-doubt can flood the mind and stick to every thought. 

He wants to make Connor smile. He wants him to feel better, even for a little bit. A stupid idea comes to Markus and he has to bite back a grin. He’s not sure how well it will work, but it’s worth a shot.

“Do you want one of my hoodies?” he asks, poking at where Connor’s shoulder would approximately be.

“No.”

“Okay.” Markus stands up with a grunt, not quite jogging to their bedroom to find the softest hoodie he owns. Although at this point it’s more Connor’s hoodie than Markus’. As much as he denies it, Connor is one hundred percent a hoodie thief.

Markus returns to Connor, hoodie in hand. He gently pulls away the blankets and sits Connor up, much to Connor’s confusion and annoyance. Ignoring Connor’s protests he wrangles him into the hoodie. By the time he’s done Connor is glaring at Markus, looking very much like their cat after being forced to take a bath. His gaze softens though, and he pulls the hood up before falling back into the couch with a soft _thwump_. 

“Do you need another blanket?” Markus asks after a beat.

“No.”

“Okay.” Markus runs back to the bedroom and gathers all of the blankets he can carry before dumping them all on Connor.

“Markus, what are you doing?”

“Do you want the cat?”

“....no?”

“Okay.”

It takes Markus a bit to find the cat. He checks all of her favorite hiding spots, eventually spotting her on Connor’s desk chair in their shared office. He scoops the snoozing cat up, marches back to the living room, and plops her down on Connor’s back. The cat sniffs around, clearly confused, before curling up anyway.

“Do you want some thirium?”

“Markus, I’m f--”

“Okay.” Markus says, already halfway to the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, grabbing every bottle of thirium in sight, and then arranges them carefully over Connor’s prone form. 

“It’s cold,” Connor complains.

“Do you want Charley?” 

“Charley? You mean our _plant_?” 

Connor’s head is sticking out from his blanket pile when Markus returns with their large houseplant in hand, pot and all. He squints at the plant, and then at Markus.

“You’ll get dirt on the blankets.”

Markus holds out the plant.

“Markus. _Don’t_.”

Markus gently places the plant on the couch and nestles it close to Connor, giving it a loving pat. Connor buries his head in his arms but can’t quite hide his small smile. Markus drops himself onto the couch next to Connor’s head, pleased with his handiwork.

“Do you want a hug?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of thirium and balancing it on Connor’s head.

“No.” Connor says. Markus can hear the angry pout in his voice.

“Okay.” Markus folds his hands in his lap and sighs contentedly. Everything else was a joke, but if Connor doesn’t want to be touched right now he won’t push it.

They stay like that for a while in the silence of the living room. Not much time passes before Connor slides his hand towards Markus and blindly fumbles around. He hooks a finger in one of Markus’ belt loops and gives it a tug. Markus grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles.

“Yes, my love?” he murmurs into the soft skin.

Connor wriggles out of Markus’ grasp and tugs at his sleeve.

“Do you need something?” Markus asks, amused

No reply except another tug, this time with a more disgruntled urgency.

“Alright, alright,” Markus gives in with a soft laugh. He reaches into the pile of blankets and extracts the other android, sending thirium and plants and cats scattering. Connor melts into his side, hiding his face in Markus’ shoulder. Markus suspects his emotions are still a bit shaky, so he reaches over for one of their throw blankets and wraps it around the both of them securely. 

“Charley fell,” he says to fill the silence.

Connor lifts his head to look over his own shoulder, taking in the toppled plant and dirt spilled on their carpet. “You’re cleaning it up,” he mumbles. Finally, he looks up hesitantly to plant a sweet kiss on the corner of Markus’ mouth. “I’m glad you’re here. I know the others probably aren’t happy with you for leaving.”

“They understood. Besides, I couldn’t just sit idly by knowing you weren’t feeling well,” Markus tightens his hold on Connor instinctively. “Do… do you want to talk about it?” Markus asks carefully.

Connor sighs, exhaustion and frustration clear in his voice. “I don’t know what it is. I just woke up and I couldn’t _do_ anything. I felt so tired. I _still_ feel tired, like I just want to lie down forever.” Connor squirms, gearing himself up to continue. At the start of his and Markus’ relationship, getting Connor to talk about his feelings was always an uphill battle. Markus takes a moment to admire how far he’s come before stroking his arm in silent encouragement. “Both my human psychology program _and_ online searches say depression, but… but I’m an _android_! Isn’t that missing the whole point of being a ‘perfect machine’?” Connor lets out a huff, clenching his jaw.

“Well, sure. But we’re not machines anymore. We have identities, autonomy, _emotions_ . For all intents and purposes we _are_ human. And humans get depressed.” 

“It’s unpleasant,” Connor says, fiddling with the edges of the blanket. He seems to be done with the subject. There will be more to talk about later on, when Connor’s had time to process everything. Right now he’s in the thick of it and it’s not surprising that Connor doesn’t want to go more into detail.

“It will pass. And until it does, I’ll keep you company. Maybe… maybe we could find a professional to help as well. So you can talk it out with someone who’s qualified,” Markus suggests gently.

“I think you’re plenty qualified,” Connor assures, though he doesn’t need to. Markus knows there are some things he just can’t provide, which is perfectly fine. That just makes him more grateful for the things he _can_ offer to Connor. “...I’ll think about it,” Connor says softly after a moment.

Markus plants a kiss in Connor’s hair. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’ll support you no matter what.” Connor hums, soaking up the attention. It’s a good thing, because a dam breaks and Markus showers him with it. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pulling Connor closer and peppering kisses all over, “You’re so good, and you make me so happy. I love you.”

Connor graciously accepts Markus’ sappiness with a serene smile. “Sometimes I think you’re too good for me,” he says airily, in a way that indicates he doesn’t really mean it. 

“Hm. What a ridiculous take,” Markus scoffs. Connor giggles, snuggling closer. 

“You’re my favorite person,” Connor muses, the simple truth in his statement warming Markus to the core.

“And you are mine,” Markus replies easily. He basks in Connor’s company for a bit before giving him a nudge. “Hey. Want to watch a movie?” he asks.

“Okay,” 

“Do you want me to get your fuzzy socks? Your feet are going to get cold.” Markus is glad Connor can’t see his scheming, shit-eating grin.

“Oh no, that’s okay. I have the blanket so I --” Connor yelps as he’s jostled when Markus abruptly stands up.

“Sure thing, I’ll get them for you,” Markus says cheerfully on his way to the bedroom.

He’s not even surprised when a pillow from the couch comes sailing across the room to hit his head.

**Author's Note:**

> me: i'm so glad the semester is over and i can write my boys again!!  
> also me: i'm gonna give connor depression.
> 
> i promise my next fic won't be a derivation of markus coming home from work early to take care of connor l m a o,,
> 
> thanks for reading weeeee


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